


For the Customer

by Galra-Slut (StrawberryCords)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Come Eating, Cum Eating, Feeding Kink, Food Kink, M/M, Table Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Xenophilia, drawings included, fucking while feeding, good customer service
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 08:39:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryCords/pseuds/Galra-Slut
Summary: Throk stilled, his posture imperceptibly shifting. “What are you implying?”There it was again. A demand phrased as a question, a bidding undercurrent that made Sal’s breath tangle mercilessly. He leaned down ever so slowly, the scent he had caught earlier now ash and honey in his throat.“We can help you with this.”-While working as chefs at Galra headquarters, Sal and Hunk notice one of their customers could use some extra attention.





	1. Chapter

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fanfic and I'm excited to share it here on AO3. It would not have been possible without the help of two amazing Galra fans. I want to thank LongPig for the initial beta-check and Taeyn for their excellent polishing skills. Taeyn took my fic to a whole new level, adding details and enhancing the original ideas. It was a true pleasure working with you on this project!  
> Reader, thank you for reading my fic. It is set anytime after S5, but written just before S6 released, so it's going to be canon divergent. There are explicit, NSFW drawings included in Chapter 2. Comments and kudos are welcome and greatly appreciated! 
> 
> From Taeyn  
> Thank you so much for sharing such a warm and delightfully kinky work with me!! c: The characterizations you created were so great and the heart of the story was already there, so it was a lot of fun to work on just tidying the flow and adding some extra spice! ^^ I hope you enjoy the result! <3!

When Hunk first invited Sal to cook at Galra Headquarters, the mall chef had his doubts.

“Dude, don’t worry, we’ll be cooking for soldiers who _don’t_ support Zarkon’s old regime,” Hunk had assured him, his grip on Sal’s shoulder firmer for every worst-case scenario Sal could voice.

Which was fine, if the fighting class were the only customers they’d serve. Lotor’s fleet was home to nothing short of the aristocratic echelon, and the Empire’s finest commanders weren’t exactly known for their open-mindedness.

“Ever hear how many citizens go missing after displeasing the Galra elite?” Sal had asked gruffly, his list of alien flavors and recipes feeling more like contraband with every second.

“Uhhh, no?” ventured Hunk.

“ _Exactly_ ,” Sal finished, but the paladin only grinned.

“Sal, just trust me on this okay?” Hunk said decisively, and for all that was on the line, Sal only puffed out his chest and tightened his bandana, finding it hard to pretend he didn’t already.

-

True to Hunk’s word, Sal’s first day as a guest chef went better than he hoped, the mess hall packed to burst with hungry lower-ranked soldiers and not a General or Lieutenant in sight.

“See? Most of the officer class fled the ship,” Hunk said happily, the oven timer for another tray of meat pies briskly punctuating his statement. While the traditional ingredients for the Earth-style favourite weren't available in Sal’s galaxy, Hunk had come up with similar tasting substitutions. By the rate the pies were leaving the kitchen, they seemed to be winning over the crew just as fast.

“Order up!” Sal called, the servers rushing forward with unexpected vigor. Other than opening food packets and scooping slop onto plates, the kitchen staff were far from accustomed to the hard work of a flourishing kitchen. But with Hunk’s patience and Sal’s stern hand, the staff seemed to be taking the challenge to heart, and except for a couple of unruly officers who found more amusement in flinging the food across the table, every patron had left satisfied and with promises to return the next day.

Sal clasped his hand into Hunk’s elbow as Hunk did the same. A till full of cash, six pies in the oven- well, two once they had eaten their fill- and a kitchen cleaned and prepped for the next day’s service.

It was a job well done.

“What’s wrong?” Hunk blurted a moment later, Sal’s smile dropping faster than a torpedo as a tall figure approached.

“That’s Commander Throk!” Sal spat, abruptly pulling Hunk down behind the counter. “You said the officer class fled the ship! What’s the deal?”

Hunk shook his head in confusion. “Why’s he all dressed like a civilian then? Don’t they wear that big, bulky armor with yellow eyes on it, you know, like... Sendak?” He shivered upon speaking that name.

“They do! But this one’s not! And we couldn’t have picked a more pompous ass to run into!” Sal wrung his wet hands on his apron and nearly shrieked when he saw Hunk glancing over the counter. “What are you doing, fool!? Believe me, we do not want to have to deal with this tonight!”

Sal tried to pull him back, but Hunk continued to stand up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about dude, but it looks like he’s going to faint.”

“ _Why_   would you-” Sal wasn’t able to finish the question before Hunk shoved his hand away and rushed out into the dining area. Just in the nick of time, he caught Throk as the Galra’s legs buckled beneath him.

“Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” Hunk assured him as he pulled Throk’s long arm around his shoulder and guided him to the closest chair. Sitting him down and leaning his body on the table, Hunk noticed that Throk’s hands were shaking, the hue of his features unmistakably ashen. It didn’t take him long to realize that Throk must not have eaten in a while and he turned to the kitchen. “Get this man something to drink and one of those energy bars we had left over from this morning!”

Sal stood up from his hiding place and groaned. “Yeesh, and this was supposed to be a relaxing night.”

With Sal’s assistance, Hunk helped Throk drink some water and take a bite of the energy bar. He wasn’t sure what was in it, but he knew it would work fast enough to provide strength for Throk to at least sit up and eat on his own. While Hunk kept a close eye on Throk, Sal hurried off to the kitchen to heat the remaining pies.

“Are you going to be okay?” Hunk asked, his voice low and genuine with concern. “You look like you haven't eaten in ages.”

Throk’s gaze was fixed on the bar in Hunk’s hand as he chewed the sticky, purple substance from his previous bite. He had attempted to devour the whole thing when Sal bought it out from the kitchen, but to prevent Throk from giving himself indigestion, Hunk had snatched it away and moderated how fast he was allowed to consume it. Throk wasn't pleased with being forced to eat at such a slow pace, but he was too weak to do anything about it. Besides, Hunk wasn't swayed by his annoyed growls.

When the first pie was warm enough, Sal set it on a plate and carried it out to the dining room. By that time, Hunk seemed to have finished feeding Throk, who was no longer slumped over the table and was able to sit up. The Commander watched Sal intently, his eyes narrowed with curiosity as Sal placed the steaming pie in front of him.

“Eat up, before it gets cold,” Sal bustled, then fished a clean spork out of his apron before swiftly making his way back to the kitchen. “They don’t taste as good the third time you heat them.”

Hunk shook his head, halfway between fond and amused. “Don’t mind him. He’s just grumpy because he was hoping to leave for the day.”

Throk turned his head to look at Hunk for a few ticks before returning his gaze to the food. In spite of his ragged appearance he cut an intimidating figure, his shoulders broad and his eyes sharp and unreadable.

“What is it?” Throk asked eventually, his voice raspy from exhaustion.

“It’s a meat pie,” Hunk explained, hoping to put him at ease. “Back at home, we call them pot pies. Meat, sauce, and pastry… I think they might be a new favorite with the crew.”

Throk fixed him with a dubious glare, then briefly lowered his head.

“If you need anything, we’ll be in the kitchen,” Hunk said gently, wondering if the Commander might do better with a bit of space. He straightened the napkin at Throk’s side before rising from the table. “Like Sal said, don’t wait too long.”

Back in the kitchen, Sal and Hunk watched Throk in anticipation, pretending to keep themselves busy so as not to make their guest nervous. Throk stared down at his plate for a few doboshes before finally reaching for the spork and picking it up. Both chefs held their breath as Throk dipped the utensil into the meat pie and scooped up a portion. He raised it to his mouth, then twitched a fraction as the warm scent enveloped his nose. Food goo, after all, was the only sustenance the Galra were familiar with, and that never smelled like much unless it had gone bad. Hesitantly, Throk brought the spork to his mouth and took a small bite.

Hunk’s fingernails dug into Sal’s hand, Sal squinted one eye as he could barely stand to look.

Throk’s lips had barely closed over the spork’s contents when his face brightened, the tapered corners of his eyes watering in surprise. His ears pricked forward in delight, his mouth moving slowly and wonderingly, as if savouring every morsel. He let out a small sound of pleasure, just as quickly trying to suppress it as he frantically glanced around the room. Sal couldn’t help a snort, remembering his near exact same reaction to Hunk’s amazing cooking. Throk, meanwhile, had hardly swallowed his first mouthful of food before taking another. Meat, breading, vegetables, he was enjoying all of it. Throk leaned back in his chair, the tension melting from his limbs.

“Well, it looks like he’s done,” Sal exclaimed with a satisfied sigh, his tiredness suddenly all seeming worth it. “I’mma go give him that last pie and then close up for the night. Someone else can clear the table tomorrow.”

“Alright, I’m gonna get some shut-eye,” Hunk replied, his whole body trembling as he stifled a yawn. He was beyond spent, but it was that strange, tingling sort of exhaustion that came from knowing he made someone’s day that much happier, and he wouldn’t swap it for the world.

“Fine! Just be up and ready for tomorrow. By the looks of today, we’re going to have more than a few return customers.”

“Goodnight, Sal,” Hunk called, stopping to tidy the condiments tray as he made his way to the staff exit.

“Get out of here, will ya?!” Sal yelled after him, plating the last meat pie. He set off towards the dining room, his face stern and mind ready for anything Throk might have to say to him. Despite Throk’s reserved disposition, he was still wary of the possible consequences of straying from the traditional Galra style of cooking.

As he approached the table, instead of fear, Sal couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. In place of military attire, Throk was wearing a high-necked tunic, the Empire’s gold standard emblazoned across the deep red of his chest. His undersuit and trousers were dark charcoal, the fabric supple yet hard-wearing, completing in two formidable darts at his wrists. While his garb might pass for civilian, Sal couldn’t help but recognise the heft of Throk’s shoulders, the alertness shifting below his veil of calm. Throk was a leader of the Empire, born and bred, and the casual clothes looked somewhat lost on his menacing form. Sal remembered once seeing a fully armored Throk in military promotional media, and though he always looked lithe, he also never appeared to be this boney.

“Err, Commander…” Sal said, at a loss for how to address him. “You look like you could use more.”

Throk’s eyes glittered at the suggestion, his lips parting as he drew a taut breath.

“Are you responsible for this kitchen?” he murmured, his voice crisp and carefully siphoned, heavy with a feeling Sal couldn’t quite grasp.

“Yes,” Sal said bluntly, a shiver traveling up his spine as he geared up for the exact damn thing he’d been hoping to avoid. Throk might be a ranking officer, but Sal very well felt like slapping him when he saw Throk tilt his jaw in response. “But look here, pal, if you weren’t after a pie-”

“It was very good. I wanted to thank you.”

Sal clenched his teeth to stop his mouth dropping open as Throk sat forward, his shadowed expression clearing.

“I cannot pay you tonight, but rest assured you will be compensated for your kindness.”

“Err, thank you, Commander, but it’s on the house”

“Just ‘Throk’ would be fine.”

“Okay, Throk, it’s on us tonight.”

Throk nodded, just once, and Sal hastily set the second plate on the table before the Galra could shock him with any further expressions of gratitude. “We’re closing up for the night, so once you’re done, just leave the plate there. Someone will take it in the morning.”

Sal refilled Throk’s water glass- somewhat messily, but Throk was too entranced by the pie to notice. It wasn’t until he drew back from the table that he caught a glimpse of a very obvious bulge along the seam of Throk’s pants.

Sal swallowed, then politely dragged his attention aside. Throk growled in appreciation as he devoured another sporkful of pastry, the sound barely discernible, but to Sal’s now-heightened senses, there all the same.

He smirked to himself. It seemed Commander Throk wasn’t simply enjoying their food. He was aroused by it.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next few quintants word of Sal and Hunk’s meat pie operation only spread, and with it grew the increasing size of the lunch and dinner crowd. Soon custodians and bureaucrats alike shared tables with the soldiers, and overflow quarters had to swiftly be set up to accommodate the rush of new patrons. Pidge reprogrammed several sentries to cover the sudden need for more staff, and the list of Galra cadets wanting to take on apprenticeships in the kitchens had doubled overnight.

As if on cue, the nightly departure of the waitstaff was closely followed by the arrival of Throk, who would quietly order the special of the day, a meat pie and several desserts. Sal found he didn’t mind staying late and cooking anything Throk ordered, and Hunk started experimenting with tantalizing new flavours for their most loyal customer. Making good on his promise, Throk continued to compensate for their kindness and troubles in more ways than one. As well as receiving generous service tips, Sal and Hunk soon found their ID passes significantly upgraded in status, giving them access to private lounges and recreation areas Sal barely imagined existed on a warship.

Consistent along with his late night appearances was the Commander’s welcome reaction to each meal he was served. Sal couldn’t help notice the way Throk’s normally sheathed erection pushed tight against the soft fabric of his pants, his hardened tip straining up toward his abdomen no matter how Throk attempted to arrange himself. Eventually Throk took to draping one of his long arms over his lap to hide it, however he often shifted his posture while eating, and Sal could still clearly see the result of Throk’s arousal all the way from the kitchen. It was on the fifth night of their venture that the Commander’s secret truly came undone, when Hunk leaned over him to offer more seasoning, afterward returning to the kitchen with a very puzzled expression.

“Damn, man!” Sal yelped in surprise, turning from the cupboards to see Hunk standing right behind him. “Give me some space, will ya?”

“Uhh, sorry about that,” said Hunk, making way for Sal to reach up and grab what he needed to complete a small batch of fruit tarts. “Sal, can I ask you a kinda… personal question?”

“Yeah, but how personal are we talking?” Sal barked, suddenly anxious he had breached some unknown protocol on his visit to the recreation area the night before. The spa baths were for bathing, right? All signs pointed to bathing. Hells, he knew he should’ve waited for someone else to go first!

“Is… is it normal for Galra to get, you know… when eating?” Hunk made a gesture with his hand that made Sal burst out laughing.

“Ohh, you mean what’s going on with the Commander,” Sal asked mid-chuckle, the heat on Hunk’s cheeks allowing him to guess the paladin wasn’t exactly displeased by the idea.

“Yeah. Because. Um,” Hunk raised his eyebrows toward the dining room. Throk’s intensely swollen erection didn’t appear to be going away anytime soon.

“Not typically,” Sal admitted, noting the way Throk’s tunic tented to match the growing shape beneath. Throk’s efforts to tuck his expanding length toward his thigh were failing miserably. “But a lot of Galra haven’t eaten anything for centuries besides food goo. And you know how bland _that_ is in comparison.”

Hunk made a face. “Definitely not a fan.”

“Exactly. So, he’s probably getting overloaded from the sensation, ya know? I mean, he wandered in here looking like he hadn’t eaten for months and then he tried something that exploded his senses.” Sal worked on filling a bag with frosting as he spoke, Hunk holding out his index finger for a taste-test.

“I suppose,” Hunk agreed, Sal piping a decent swirl of citrus icing onto Hunk’s fingertip. “I’m starting to worry about him though. You can’t hear it back here, but out in the dining room, I heard him moaning. His hands were trembling too.”

“Geez, I guess some of the rumors are true then,” said Sal, his brows furrowing as Hunk gave a double thumbs-up, the all-clear for squeezing frosting onto the tarts. “I overheard a few soldiers talking about a commander who went missing. One of them swore they heard him screaming in one of Haggar’s labs. Another person said there had been a few Galra in the interrogation room after a recent betrayal.”

Sal glanced at Hunk, who had gone awfully still all of a sudden. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, being with Voltron and all?”

Hunk’s mouth pulled down at the corners as Sal gave him a side-eyed expression. “Uh, what does that have to do with Throk?”

It wasn’t exactly an answer, but Hunk seemed genuinely concerned as he toyed with the strings of his apron.

“Oh, yeah! Well, I think he’s the one they’ve been going on about. He’s an awarded elite, fighting soldiers would be falling outta their chairs to have him at the table. And yet here he is alone every night, like he wants to lay low or something? That strikes you as odd, right?”

“Right,” Hunk said slowly, then gently puffed out his cheeks with an exhale, deep in thought as he gazed toward the oven. “Okay. I’m going to take a pie out to him. He’s probably done with the soup, and I want to make sure he’s alright and all.”

Sal set the frosting bag down, Hunk’s empathy stirring an unfamiliar pang in his own chest.

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll come with,” Sal said gruffly, surprised when Hunk smiled brightly to hear it.

Hunk leading the way, the two of them walked to the front counter to observe their unusual patron. To Sal’s alarm, he was looking far worse for the wear. Throk was bent forward, his body shaking and sweating profusely, eyes shut tight as he whimpered painfully.

“Aw crex, he looks like he’s gonna pop,” Sal hissed, Hunk shooting him an equally stricken glance. “Probably hasn’t had much personal contact for a while either! Even if it is Throk, I can’t leave a fellow Galra like that.”

“What do you mean?” Hunk blurted, his eyes widening as Sal started washing his hands in the sink. “He’s just gotta jack off later, dude. I mean, that’s what I’d-”

Sal turned around, his sudden movement sending dish soap splashing onto the floor. He grabbed Hunk’s arm and whispered in his ear. “Yeah, but it really hurts when a Galra gets to that point of arousal. We’re talking serious business here!”

Hunk snorted and rolled his eyes, then gave Sal a knowing look. “Well _that’s_ no mystery. It’s not exactly a party when humans have blue balls either.”

“See? You get it then!” Sal exclaimed, grimacing as Hunk quickly made a gesture for him to lower his voice. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask, though someone of his status might not want either of us touching him like that to begin with.” Sal returned to washing his hands. “How would you feel if he did say yes to us helping him out?”

Hunk’s blush made a speedy return as he shifted his weight, staring from the Commander to Sal and back again.

“I’d kind of like to feed him,” Hunk said tentatively, then cleared his throat. “While you, um…”

Hunk made a stimulating gesture with one hand, the two chefs swapping guilty grins as they contemplated the predicament they found themselves in.

“Yeah, I could take care of that part,” Sal agreed. “You sure about this though? He was probably commanding some of the ships that attacked Voltron. I don’t think I’d be too happy about getting that personal with someone who tried to off me once.”

Hunk tried for an offhand shrug, but Sal had the distinct impression Hunk was far from unfamiliar with the sentiment.

“Even if that’s the case,” Hunk admitted a moment later, Sal’s quirked eyebrow letting him know he wasn’t as subtle as he hoped. “A lot of the soldiers here probably tried to kill us once or twice back then. But now they’re enjoying our food and having fun. I suppose Throk’s not much different.”

Sal crossed his sizable arms over his chest, considering. Hells, hadn’t he and Hunk’s friendship started with Hunk trying to swipe his food samples? Misunderstanding or no, Hunk didn’t seem to have any hard feelings about being cuffed to Sal’s dishwasher.

“Besides, it sounds like he got beat up by the Empire pretty badly too,” Hunk continued, squinting somewhat nervously as he approached a more pressing concern. “I just…I’m not sure I know Galra anatomy well enough to be much help? I can only do what us humans do with our...uh...cocks?” He stopped for a tick. “Do Galra call it a cock?”

Sal thought for a second and smiled. “You think too much, buddy. Save that for the kitchen. Don’t worry about it, just take care of feeding him. I’m sure he’s going to have a hard time eating on his own.”

Hunk nodded, both hopeful and relieved. “Got it.”

Sal dried his hands and placed one on Hunk’s shoulder. “And if you feel too weird out there, there’s no shame in walking away.”

“Thanks, Sal. I should be fine though.”

Hunk started washing his hands, Sal abruptly clicking his fingers as he remembered.

“I should probably get something just in case things ramp up a bit,” Sal’s chuckled, Hunk’s curious stare following him toward the rear of the kitchen. Sal drew a deep breath as he hummed to himself, much like he did before starting on an exciting new pastry mix.

Wait a dobosh.

Did he _want_ things to ramp up a bit?

When Sal returned, Hunk followed him out into the dining room, Throk looking up as the two chefs approached him with a freshly baked pie.

“I see you’re enjoying the food,” Sal said warmly. Throk’s bright yellow eyes had already glazed over at the sight of the serving dish, his mouth pressed to a line to disguise his heady expression.

“Mmm...it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted before,” Throk replied, his voice heavy and guttural, laced with barely-withheld need. “It’s very different, but good. I find it hard to get enough.”

Sal wrapped his thick arm around Hunk’s shoulders. “You can thank my man, Hunk here! This style is from his planet!”

Throk didn’t say anything, but managed a stiff nod in Hunk’s direction. From his own experience with discovering Hunk’s talent, Sal could tell Throk was finding it difficult to believe. A human outdoing a citizen of the Empire, much less teaching them anything was unheard of. But here they were, and Throk, for all his conditioning, was clearly making an effort to show Hunk his appreciation. That in itself spoke volumes.

"So, we noticed you were having some trouble out here," Sal said, attempting to nod tactfully at the feverish swelling beneath Throk’s trousers. Sal’s sure he wasn’t imagining the damp patch of precum where the Commander’s cock had been squashed taut against the fabric, the edge of his plump head so engorged that Sal can visibly make out it’s pointed shape.

"What trouble?" Throk asked warningly, his tone curt and chilled, hungry and vicious at once. Sal should have felt terrified- crex, the sane part of him very nearly ran- but there was something urging in the question too, daring, almost begging him to go on.

Sal mustered an expression bolder than he felt, pointed his open palm between his own legs and then looked at Throk’s crotch again.

Throk curled back his upper lip, his teeth gritted wet and luminous under the dimmed lights. They’re sharper teeth than Sal’s, made for damage, his tongue an inky violet as he summoned a dangerous hiss.

Sal’s overstepped- he knew it and Throk knew it- and Sal could only hold his ground as Throk slowly rose from the table, Sal’s head tilting further and further back as Throk drew himself to his full height. He could hear Hunk audibly swallow. Five nights of their cooking may not have returned the Commander to fighting form, but not an inch of his foreboding silhouette is lost on Sal, who doesn’t even reach Throk’s shoulder. Hunk looks like he’s barely pushing Throk’s chest on a good day.

“Oh?” Throk said quietly, his voice sable soft. If he’s self-conscious he masks it well, his expression liliting and venomous, a pool of shadows gently pulling Sal in. Sal’s never paid much attention to the markings on the Throk’s face, but now, with him close enough to catch the Commander’s very scent, he finds he can’t tear his gaze from the darts around Throk’s eyes, the dark slashes of fur narrowing as Throk hardens his stare.

“The trouble that’s been happening every night!” Hunk blurted out, immediately twitching in regret as Throk snapped to face him.

“I’ll have you know,” Throk said carefully, his figure looming threateningly as he took in the smaller chef. “That this has never occurred when I’ve eaten anything other than your cooking.”

“Well jeez, thank you, I’ve had some preeetty out there compliments in my time, but this one’s got to take the cak-”

“What did you put in this food?!” Throk exploded, abruptly putting a stop to Hunk’s babbling with a palm slammed into the table. “Why has it forced me to lie sexually frustrated without relief every night?”

“Woah, my buddy, chill out there!” Sal exclaimed, rushing to diffuse the mounting tension by jumping between Throk and Hunk. “Just good ol’ natural ingredients from around our galaxy! You know our bodies. They react in weird ways to all sorts of new stuff. I know mine did, ahhh, maybe not exactly like yours did, but it did re-awaken my love for cooking.” Sal thrust an enthusiastic elbow into Hunk’s side. “And I haven’t been the same since!”

Throk gave a coarse-sounding rumble, but his expression faded from sinister to a mild scowl, which Sal was happy to take as a win.

“No need to be embarrassed!” Sal hurried on, knowing a seize-the-day moment when he saw it. “It's a perfectly normal reaction for Galra who’ve eaten nothing but food goo since forever.” Just the thought of the bland food he once served made Sal scrunch-up his face, but he swiftly brightened as he continued. “You should see how excited some of the soldiers and staff here get when they eat. I mean, they don’t bust out a boner, but their faces sure look like they’re cracking!”

Hunk laughed, Sal’s rough and tumble manners as good as breaking the ice with a sledgehammer.

“A lot of people out here haven’t tried the kind of food we have on Earth,” Hunk said kindly, one hand tucked below his arms as he warmed to the Commander’s grim stare. “Everyone has different ways of expressing it.”

The three of them stood a moment, the skin prickling on the back of Sal’s neck, Hunk nodding encouragingly at Throk’s chair, and Throk on the verge of a snarl, the rawness of it near humming in the silence.

And then, with the unforgiving terseness of someone used to being in control, the Commander sat down.

“I suppose,” Throk murmured, while Sal and Hunk swapped grateful smiles. Throk pretended to ignore them, focusing instead on the fresh golden-crisped pie. “Do you mind if I have my pie now?”

Sal touched Throk’s shoulder. "That’s what we were gonna talk to you about.”

The fur at the edge of Throk’s ears bristled, his muscles tensing beneath Sal’s wide palm.

“There’s something wrong with the pie?” Throk growled, the want in his tone simmering to boil.

“No, the pie’s fine. I’m talking about the fact that you’re turned on. We saw you shivering and sweating earlier. I’m Galra too, so I know how it feels if nothing is done about it.”

Throk stilled, his posture imperceptibly shifting. “What are you implying?”

There it was again. A demand phrased as a question, a bidding undercurrent that made Sal’s breath tangle mercilessly. He leaned down ever so slowly, the scent he had caught earlier now ash and honey in his throat.

“We can help you with this.”

The murky edges that frame the Commander’s eyes deepened. Though his gaze didn’t falter, there’s no missing the flinch of vulnerability that followed, the note of uncertainty clipping his tone.

“Are you proposing,” Throk managed, “that you fuck me?”

Sal stood back upright, Hunk looking visibly relieved to finally bare their cards on the table.

“Well, we were thinking more of Hunk feeding you while I stroke you off,” Sal said amicably. “But if you wanted to be fucked, I could do that as well. I have protection if you’re worried about that.”

Throk held Sal’s stare a few moments, before moving to Hunk, his eyes inadvertently flashing over the crest of their chef tunics. Galran military rank was typically signified by the markings on the front of one’s armor, and neither Hunk, nor Sal, nor Throk were right now wearing anything of the sort. It suddenly- and rather painfully- occurred to Sal that Throk might not be shunning his armor out of choice after all.

“Under normal circumstances,” Throk allowed, but even he seemed reluctant to voice it, Sal already guessing his concern. “Due to my rank and position-”

Sal rolled his eyes. As he suspected, it was just like an aristocratic Galra to be more worried about social standing than the fact that two strangers were asking to fuck him. Sal pointed a reckless finger at Throk before he remembered himself, then kept it there anyway.

“You’re in no position to be worried about status right now, shivering and moaning like a yupper in heat!”

“Are we doing this or not?” Hunk piped up, sensing it was now or never. “I’ve got a very hot and delicious pie here with your name on it! Well, okay, sorry, no, it doesn’t actually have-”

Sal grinned widely at Throk’s obvious confusion, already long acquainted with the human’s strange turns of phrase. He stuck his hands on his hips and raised an encouraging eyebrow.

“Stop fussing over silly details,” Sal said frankly. “Do you want relief or not, Throk?”

“Yes, I want it,” Throk hissed, Sal and Hunk both jumping at the sudden force of his response, the tips of Throk’s cheeks blotted a distinct shade of wine. “I want it, alright? I want it.”

In a single, somewhat violent action, Throk pushed himself backward to make space between his body and the table, his breath husky and graveled from longing alone. His own heart speeding in anticipation, Sal moved behind him, his arms wrapping under Throk’s and reaching down toward his stomach. Throk’s inhale hitched, every small movement making him quiver.

“Give Hunk the spork and just relax," Sal ordered. Hunk stepped forward, placed the plate on the table and held out his hand. Throk looked up into Hunk’s brown eyes and slowly placed the spork into his palm. He breathed deeply as Sal pulled his body flush against the chair and lifted the hem of his shirt. Throk swallowed hard as he watched Hunk use the spork to separate a helping of the pie from the whole. His mouth watered as steam rose and savory juices poured from the opening, spreading out on the plate. Hunk scooped up the portion and carefully brought it up to Throk’s lips.

"You, um, may want to open your mouth or the spaceship is going to slam into the hangar door," Hunk warned, amused at his own humor.

Whether the joke was lost on him or not, Throk opened his mouth and allowed Hunk to gently place the utensil on his tongue. He closed his lips over the offering, allowing Hunk to carefully remove the clean spork, Throk’s eyelids fluttering and limbs going loose and boneless as he gave in to the indulgent sensation of being fed. As his body shivered and seized in turn with each tender morsel of Hunk’s attention, Sal laid his palms flat on Throk’s chest, carefully navigating his way down. Where his upper arms pressed into the sides of the Commander’s torso, he could feel a layer of velvety fur, the hairs supple and silky fine, luxurious in a way that made Sal crave to run his fingers through it. The fur was short by nature, and had a raven-purple hue, shadowed around the carve of his lean physique. Where Sal’s hands explored Throk’s chest, the hair naturally piqued into a sharp point between his pectoral muscles, giving way to venomously soft skin over the front of his form. His skin was a dusky plum color, the hard planes of his abdomen shuddering with need as Sal traced their dips and peaks. The Commander twitched as Sal’s fingertips scraped along the edge of his waistband, finally stretching beneath to grasp his fully unsheathed cock.

Throk let out a choked gasp.

“That’s it,” Sal whispered, Throk nearly bucking into the grip of his palm. His cock was strained and searingly hot, his generous length framed by a tease of well-groomed fur. Throk’s base, too, secreted the delicate sheath which would normally cage his cock in full, however in the heat of his arousal the whole of him pushed harshly out of his body. Slowly, Sal eased his hand over the ridges that sleek down his shaft, a series of restrained knots that echoed the symmetry of an armored weapon, alluringly smooth to the touch. Sal caressed his velveteen tip, his dancing fingers eliciting a bead of sticky precum where the Commander’s head finished in a gentle cusp. Throk shifted his hips in pleasure, urging into Sal’s strokes. His mouth gaped open to receive another savoury mouthful from Hunk, his body writhing and helpless beneath their ministrations.

“Spread your legs wider,” Sal hummed, finding it difficult to reach any deeper with Throk’s thighs so close together. Throk complied, setting his boots further apart and jutting his hips toward the ceiling, Hunk finding it increasingly challenging to keep his attention on his appointed task. Beneath a rumpled set of trousers, the toned lines of Throk’s legs were flexed and bursting at the seams, the satisfying feeling of nourishment and relief overwhelming his reflexes as well as his senses.

“That's better,” Sal grunted, and he stretched his palm down past Throk’s expanding base to find the swollen bud beneath. He travelled a fingertip around its oval shape, Throk flinching with each sweep of Sal’s touch, his breath a desperate staccato. Sal reached further still, finding Throk’s folds already enticingly damp, soft hair parted around his opening and his slit dripping within.

“How long has it been since anyone touched you?” Sal managed.

Throk merely huffed through his increasingly labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” Sal purred into his ear as he began tracing his soaked entrance, swapping his attention back and forth between Throk’s set of genitals. Throk growled roughly in his throat, none too pleased to hear it voiced out loud. His already flushed face grew darker as he eyed Hunk for a response, expecting shock or disgust, but he received only a wide smile and another portion of pie.

Sal grinned at Throk’s reaction as he continued to explore his anatomy. He rolled and kneaded Throk’s clit, causing the taller Galra to groan and lean even more heavily into his arms. As Hunk continued to feed him, Throk could hear the obscenely wet sound of Sal rubbing slick from his slit up onto his cock. He hadn’t known pleasure like this could exist. The plate was empty all too soon, Sal gently rubbing Throk’s belly as he gave another sated moan.

“Would you like more?” Sal asked. “Hunk will get you more if you’d like.”

Throk gave a hazardous nod, a careless rumble escaping his chest too as Hunk disappeared into the kitchen. He tried his best to recollect his composure before Hunk returned with a smaller plate, a tantalizingly sweet tart resting within. Throk stared without restraint at the dessert, his mouth watering and his ears tellingly perked.

"I'm getting turned on watching you enjoy our cooking," Sal said, firming his grip on Throk’s cock as he quickened his pace. "Would you like me to fuck you?"

A hiss sucked through Throk’s clenched teeth, the mere mention of it edging him to break.

“Will-” he gasped, moved a clawed hand toward Hunk, then curled it back to his chest, as if afraid of frightening him. “Will you continue to feed me?”

“Of course,” Hunk said shyly, an unfamiliar pleasure spiking his cheeks at Throk’s request. He worked the spork into the fluffy, crumbly pastry at the edge of the tart, making sure to get enough of the sweet filling onto the crust before delivering it into Throk’s waiting mouth.

Sal moved his hands back up to Throk’s hips, steadying the Commander as he rose shaking from the table. Sal kicked the chair aside as Throk slid the last of his trousers and underwear down to his knees, a gratified sound escaping him at Throk’s willingness. With no great degree of finesse, Sal untangled himself from his apron, unbuckled his belt and pulled his bottoms down.

"You’re so damn tall,” Sal grumbled. “Just bend over the table.”

Hunk briskly swept aside the plates as Throk bent appeasingly forward, his elbows placed evenly on the surface as he arched his back and presented his ass. Sal was already hard and unsheathed from fondling the Commander’s cock, but the sight of his blushed hole and eager slit sent a throb of hunger through his core. Fighting to keep his bearings, Sal fumbled with the packet he’d retrieved from his office and removed a stretchy, transparent tube from it.

“Uhh, Sal?” Hunk interrupted nervously. “What is that?”

Throk flicked his head to look back at Sal in response to Hunk’s question, an amused smirk lighting his features as it was Hunk’s turn to be confused.

“Huh, this?” Sal asked, puzzled. “What, you humans don’t use protection with strangers?”

Hunk laughed as he watched Sal squeeze it over his cock. “Oh, we do most of the time. It just looks more like a disk and less like a sock when you take it out.”

Both Throk and Sal glanced at him, wondering what kind of cocks these aliens had if they used disks for such an occasion.

“It turns into something like a sock. It rolls out into a sort of tube like yours.” Hunk explained, realizing from their expressions that he was confusing them even more. “Anyway, I’ll show you some other time, though I don’t know what a time like that would present itself...”

“Hunk!” Sal exclaimed. “We’re on the edge here!”

“Sorry!” Hunk blurted, but Throk looked rather nefariously amused.

“Come a little closer,” he invited, his voice a low coil. “Perhaps there is another course I might like to sample before dessert.”

Sal caught Hunk’s eye- _you don’t have to_ \- but Hunk seemed all the more enthralled, his pulse surging and his skin set alight as the Commander raised a hand to Hunk’s zipper. Throk’s fingers are long and slender, strong, well-carved knuckles set over an elegantly wide handspan, his claws acutely extended due to his current state. He pinched a thumb and forefinger around the catch of the zip, pulled carefully down to reveal Hunk’s underwear, the shape of his arousal unmistakable within.

“If you’ll permit me…” Throk whispered, his yellow eyes flashed enticingly as Hunk swallowed, desire overcoming his fear as Throk smiled widely, doing nothing to conceal his vicious teeth. He kept them well clear as he freed Hunk’s cock however, looking both pleased and curious at the human’s less hostile features. With an exhale that sent a lick of hot air over Hunk’s shaft, Throk closed his mouth around the treat before him, taking Hunk surprisingly deeply before gently suckling his tip. Hunk let out a heavy whimper. The Commander’s tongue was rough and pliant, curving around the taut ridge that surrounded Hunk’s head, even teasing the sensitive notch of his slit. Throk pulsed more keenly in time with Hunk’s sounds and sips of air, his hands soon clasped fiercely into the front of Hunk’s apron, half keeping Hunk upright as the smaller human’s legs weaken with pleasure. Throk gave a careful growl, the vibration of it tremoring through Hunk’s stomach, his cock flexing involuntarily against the roof of Throk’s mouth. Throk smirked around Hunk’s length- a dangerous sight- then sucked without remorse, his mouth salivating with need as he slicked back and forth.

“Ah-aahh,” Hunk warned, quickly setting down his pie and spork as his hands fumbled for something to cling to. Hunk’s fingers sought purchase in the rumpled fabric of Throk’s tunic, however the shirt only slipped further down, the small of Throk’s back vanishing under the material. Throk just as promptly snatched a hand over his shoulder, raked his tunic back to the nape of his neck and bowed his shoulders toward Hunk’s palms, as much of an encouragement as he knew how to give. Hunk could barely breathe as he clutched into him, Throk’s arid warmth bare on his fingers, his tongue grazing and drenching as he leaned into Hunk’s touch. A crest of trembling stirs up from Hunk’s middle, his hands gripping Throk’s shoulders for dear life. The feeling of the Galra’s naked back beneath his palms, his satin fur rippling over muscle and bone…

“Oh!” Hunk shrieked, fervently digging into Throk’s back in alarm, he hadn’t expected to come nearly so soon. His seed exploded in a rush of tepid liquid, his yells colliding with Throk’s hiss of enjoyment. Throk’s lips curled upward in satisfaction as he savored Hunk’s taste, and Sal, stunned by the fevered outburst before him, suddenly found himself struck by an idea.

“Mmmm, delicious,” Throk groaned, his delight at Hunk’s reaction still palpable in his smile. He licked his lips, allowing himself a full-bodied shiver as a breathless Hunk readied another sporkful of pie. His mouth freshly filled, Throk reassumed his position over the table, indulging in the sight of both the tart and Hunk’s glistening cock. His purring, now distinctly blurred with the sound of his growls, drops perilously as Sal lines up to Throk’s slit.

“Nnhh… now,” Throk urged, his crisp manner giving way to an aching moan, the gentle pressure of Sal’s head teasing his folds proving too much. Sal knew what he needed, however Sal’s girth was considerable, even for Throk’s ready state. Throk let out an unhallowed roar as Sal’s plump tip entered him, his slick walls clenching in euphoric agony. Hunk fed him another sporkful of rich, moist fruit pie, Throk’s howls and whines rising in an all-consuming bliss. He’s ravenous, begging and trembling as Sal’s thick cock stretches him open, his eyes rolling back in his head as Huck continued filling his stomach with delicious food.

“Harder!” Throk bellowed, and Sal abandoned his restraint, his hands seizing over the Commander’s hips as he pulled Throk against him, Throk’s claws gouging into the table. The tight cavern of Throk’s slit felt near unbearably heated as Sal plunged into him, the soak of Throk’s arousal speeding his thrusts, echoing in succulent slaps as Throk reared his body to better receive Sal’s width. Sal fucked him unbridled, Throk panting between mouthfuls of heavenly dessert. Hunk’s free hand clenched through the fur on Throk’s back, Throk nudging into his splayed palm for more, each sensation brimming and building, overloading him with visceral pleasure.

"I'm going... to come," Throk choked, all control forsaken. Sal reached for his cock to find Throk’s lower knots blushed and deeply engorged, no longer fitting into even half of Sal’s fist. The swelling gives way to a desperate gasp, Sal pumping faster as his earlier idea blossoms into action.

“Hunk, bring that tart closer!” Sal commanded, and Hunk met the glint in his eye with a smile, instinctively knowing what he had in mind. The two Chefs have worked side by side for long enough now, Sal’s newfound creative flair ever flourishing under Hunk’s masterful direction. Hunk had always found the best signature recipes were forged out of impulse, and tonight was no exception.

Throk’s twitching turned to trembling, his walls throbbing as contractions began to pulse through his abdomen. It was almost painful, but the Commander rose up to meet it, the strength of the sensation faced by the same strength that had always seen him through, that saw him surface as the waves crashed in. They sunk him now, deep and dark and beautiful, and as Throk let himself be taken he felt victorious and sublime, that he was not of his body, that he could stand, for once, to fall.

Sal slowed his pace, gently fucking him through the release, flares and darts of pleasure wracking through Throk’s body in the aftermath. He let go of Throk’s post-orgasmic, now-oversensitive cock, and Hunk brought the last half of the tart back to the table, his smile coy and unreadable. The pie was iced with a purple-tinted, pearlescent cream, and with some surprise the Commander realized that he was staring at his own cum. He crumpled his nose when Hunk held a sporkful of the newly improved dessert to his lips, but curiosity got the better of him. The Chefs had been right about everything else, and in spite of his earlier reservations, Throk realized he trusted them.

He extended his tongue to receive the mouthful, the sweetly sour fruit now brought to life with a salty tang, the flaky pastry completing the dish in an explosion of bright, contrasting flavors. It tasted forbidden and it tasted divine, Throk’s eyelids closed as the fusion caressed his tastebuds, comforting and uplifting him at once.

“What is that sweet stuff?” Throk croaked, licking a stray droplet of fruit from his lips as Hunk gathered another serving.

“I’m not quite sure how to pronounce it,” Hunk said. “It tastes like these fruits called ‘lemons’ from back on Earth.”

Throk opened his mouth as Hunk fed him again and again, Sal keeping his fucking to a soothing rhythm, his orgasm long and shuddering as he finally came. It seemed to be the exact remedy Throk so bodily craved, and he collapsed exhausted across the table as Sal slowly pulled out, taking the condom with him. Some part of Throk took this as a signal to stand up, but both Sal and Hunk had a hand on his shoulders before he could do so, sternly keeping him down.

“Stay here for a tic,” Sal rumbled, knowing the Commander was completely spent. "Hunk, would you get one of the warm towels?"

Hunk hurried off to grab one, and when he returned, Sal unrolled it and knelt in front of Throk. With a carefulness Throk wasn’t accustomed to, Sal moved the textured fabric over his genitals and thighs, gently cleansing the traces of their encounter from his skin.

“We’re definitely burning this towel,” Sal deadpanned, his tone so blunt that even Throk crooked a smile. Eventually, he could rise to his full height without aid, his fingers still slightly shaky as he fixed his clothing and smoothed his wrinkled shirt.

“This has been… interesting,” Throk murmured stiffly, but there’s something oddly sincere in his tone too, Hunk answering with a genuine smile.

“Did you enjoy it?” he ventured.

“I did,” Throk returned, then softly cleared his throat.

"It's always nice to entertain our virgin customers!" Sal declared buoyantly, tightening his apron back into place.

"I beg your pardon," Throk blurted out, "I am by no means a virgin! I gave my virginity to-"

"No, no," Hunk started laughing, holding up hands. "We're talking about virgin as in, new to our food."

“Oh. Then make that known beforehand!” Throk retorted, his glare rivaling the heat of the Empire’s best laser cannons. In spite of his obvious embarrassment, Sal could’ve sworn he also looked amused.

"You are all good, my dude," Sal said, echoing Hunk’s favourite Earth saying and patting Throk on the back. "Come back anytime. You’re one of our best customers!"

Throk nodded and turned to leave. Hunk and Sal looked up when he hesitated.

“And… if I should return?”

The question hovered intangible between them, finished in a cautious glance as Throk wondered if he’d said too much.

Hunk only glanced at Sal and smiled.

"Anything for the customer."


End file.
